


Control

by allofuswithwings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Manipulation by magic, Pre Season/Series 04, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is acting like an arse.  Merlin decides to teach him a lesson using magic.  But this is no ordinary punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: xanium

~*~

 

Merlin knew he wasn’t supposed to use magic for trivial matters, or his own amusement.  He knew that.  He _did_.

 

But sometimes it was just too hard to resist when Arthur was being _such_ a prat.

 

Like tonight.

 

For the entire day the Prince had been in a foul mood, and had clearly decided his manservant was the person he should take it out on.  It had been one deliberately dirty job after another for Merlin, accompanied by verbal abuse and mockery, and the occasional slap across the head.

 

Merlin had tried to take it all with good humour, as he usually did, but had been left exhausted and emotionally drained.

 

Now they’d returned to Arthur’s chambers, Merlin preparing the Prince’s bed and nightclothes, and the warlock had hoped it was the end of it.  But still Arthur couldn’t seem to leave him be.

 

He ordered Merlin to carry out the most minor and pointless duties in his room while the Prince sat at his table, going through papers.  And with each new task came new insults.

 

“When you’re done with polishing those boots – if you can manage it, that is – you can dust the mantle and clean out the fireplace.”

 

Merlin stared at him.

 

“What, again?  I did it only yesterday.”

 

Arthur looked up from his work to give the warlock a hard stare.

 

“Well, it needs doing again.  Clearly you did such a poor job of it the first time, _idiot_.”

 

Merlin bit back a retort, pressing his lips together.

 

“Yes, sire,” he said, forcing a smile.

 

That was it.  Merlin had had enough.  He was going to show Arthur what it felt like to be subject to things that you couldn’t control.

 

Still crouching a few feet away with the Prince’s shoes, Merlin lifted his head and concentrated on Arthur’s form at the table.  He felt the hum of magic rush through his body, and his eyes glowed gold for a moment.

 

Arthur jumped, and stopped writing.

 

Merlin snorted quietly.  He flicked another glance up at the Prince and bit his lip at the expression of utter confusion on Arthur’s face.  Then the Prince shook his head a little and went back to work.

 

Fixing his gaze on Arthur again, Merlin focused.  He could exert pressure and move objects at will, and that was exactly what he was doing right now.  His target: Arthur’s trousers.

 

His eyes glowed again and Arthur paused once more, his eyebrows shooting up this time.

 

Merlin frowned.  It didn’t seem to be enough; it was a reaction, but not as much as he’d been hoping for.  He tried again.

 

The warlock imagined invisible forces pulling the fabric of Arthur’s trousers tight across his crotch, creating a distinct pressure there, and then moulding around the shape the Prince’s cock made.  As his eyes flashed, Merlin saw Arthur exhale a sharp breath and this time he dropped his pen on the table.

 

_Yes_.

 

The Prince shifted in his seat, his cheeks colouring.  He coughed uncomfortably.

 

Merlin grinned.

 

The warlock finished polishing the Prince’s boots and grabbed a cloth to begin cleaning the mantle behind Arthur.  He bit his lip to stop himself from laughing, his back to the Prince.

 

“Stuck?”

 

He heard Arthur shift again.

 

“What?”

 

“You dropped your pen,” Merlin observed.  “I thought whatever you’re working on might be frustrating you.”

 

Arthur grunted.

 

“No,” he growled.  “It’s fine.  Shut up and get back to work.”

 

Smiling to himself, Merlin didn’t bother to reply.  He had a much better avenue for vengeance than verbal sparring; he was definitely going to show Arthur frustration now.

 

He allowed the magic to build up in his body, starting as a warm hum in his chest before it radiated out to flow through his veins and burn behind his eyes.  He turned his head to direct it at the Prince again.  Merlin watched Arthur’s mouth fall open to let out a soft gasp, and a hand came down to press against the table.

 

_Bullseye_.

 

Arthur fidgeted wildly in his chair, his expression of confusion now infused with suppressed desire.  Merlin grinned, still dusting the mantle a few feet away from his Prince.  He let him be for a moment more, giving Arthur time to process the sensations he was feeling, before focusing his energies back again.

 

Merlin pressed against the outside of Arthur’s trousers with the power of his mind, concentrating harder this time to specifically trace the length of his cock like a flattened palm.  As an afterthought, the warlock shot an invisible bolt of arousal directly into Arthur’s abdomen.

 

That would teach him.

 

Merlin had to cover his mouth with the back of his hand to stifle a laugh as he heard Arthur try to smother a groan with a cough.  He turned to see Arthur arched tensely at his table, his hips tilted forward and fingernails digging into the wood.

 

“Sire, are you alright?” Merlin asked smugly.

 

“What?” the Prince replied, breathless.

 

“You sound like you’re in pain.”

 

He stopped his cleaning and approached Arthur, eyes twinkling with mischief.

 

“I’m fine,” Arthur replied, his brow furrowed and not looking up.

 

“Are you sure?  You look a bit flushed.  Maybe you’ve got a fever or something?”

 

“I said I was fine,” Arthur snapped dismissively.  “Get back to what you’re supposed to be doing before you get close enough for me to hit.”

 

Smirking and turning back to the mantle, Merlin ran his tongue along his lower lip.

 

“Yes, my lord.”

 

Arthur would pay for that threat.  Oh yes indeed.

 

Merlin invoked his magic again and grinned as he heard Arthur’s chair scrape across the floor, clearly startled.  That one he’d aimed at the Prince’s balls, squeezing and massaging them gently with his mind.  There were heavy breaths from behind him, and he could only imagine how hard Arthur was in his trousers now.

 

Good.  Served him right; he deserved to know discomfort and confusion after the way he’d treated Merlin that day.

 

The warlock then wondered how far he should push it.  He didn’t know how long he could continue making the Prince feel this way before Arthur ordered him to leave.  And he wasn’t done torturing the arrogant bastard quite yet.

 

Merlin looked over to see Arthur glancing down between his legs, and it took all his self-control to contain his laughter at the sight.  He’d never seen Arthur looks so perplexed the entire time he’d known him, especially in relation to his own body.

 

For a moment, he felt sorry for the Prince, and contemplated halting this torment.  Then he remembered about the stable mucking.  And the armour polishing.  And the _longjohn scrubbing_.

 

No.  This was no time to show mercy, when Arthur had shown him none.

 

Merlin let the sorcery flow through him and subjected Arthur to another round of tightness in his crotch.  Precise, maddening pressure here and there; at the base of his cock, a touch at the head, before pressing at his balls again.  It was enough to generate a dizzying arousal but not enough to provide any sort of true pleasure or relief.

 

The Prince’s eyes widened comically before squeezing shut, his head hanging down and hands now gripped to the edge of the table.  His lips hung apart as he took in sharp breaths, cheeks flushed, and a slight dampness was beginning to show at his hairline.

 

Any moment, Merlin expected Arthur to command him to leave so he could cope with this on his own.  But the words never came.  Instead, much to Merlin’s surprise, Arthur’s hands slid to sides of the table and he let his head loll back, eyes closed.

 

He was _giving in_ to it.

 

Rather than fight it or attempt to figure out the strange situation, as Arthur normally did by instinct, the Prince was surrendering.  The revelation made Merlin falter for a moment.  Arthur’s eyelids fluttered and his tongue came out to lick his damp lips.

 

Gathering his wits, Merlin allowed magic to flood his body again, and he focused his mind on the area between Arthur’s legs.  He imagined forces pushing on Arthur’s hardened cock, gently yet firmly now, moulding and massaging up the shaft through the fabric of his trousers.  He imagined invisible fingers stroking underneath his balls and a thumb working the ridges at the head of his cock.

 

Arthur barely contained a gasp, his hips bucking, and Merlin found his own hand flying up to grip the mantle for support.  This was supposed to have been a punishment for Arthur; a torture to drive him mad and make him learn.  But Merlin was getting swept away with it all.  He wanted now to draw not only noises of frustration from the Prince, but also sounds of enjoyment.  And it was filling _him_ with sensations of arousal just seeing Arthur undone like this.

 

The warlock’s eyes glowed again and again as he concentrated on increasing the pressure in Arthur’s trousers, his head imagining the precise shape of Arthur’s cock as it strained and twitched under the restriction.  And he imagined it was _his_ hands on it this time; stroking and kneading through the fabric, feeling the heat and firmness there.

 

Merlin had to bite his lip hard at these thoughts to suppress his own groans.  He should _not_ think of such things.  He knew that.  They were forbidden, and created a tightness in his trousers.

 

He turned to watch Arthur take in heavy breaths through damp, parted lips; his head back, eyes closed and legs spread apart.  Merlin couldn’t take his eyes off him like that.

 

He moved slightly to one side of the mantle and was able to see the swell in Arthur’s trousers.  The presence of a damp spot on the fabric too confirmed just how mad he was driving the Prince.  Throwing caution to the wind, Merlin brought a hand up in front of him and directed his own arousal squarely at Arthur, further enhancing the finger-like strokes along the shaft of the Prince’s cock.

 

Arthur’s eyes opened, heavy-lidded and directed at the ceiling, and a quiet moan emerged from between his already-parted moist lips.

 

Merlin’s thoughts ran away from him now; he imagined his hand wrapped around the base of Arthur’s cock and thumb working the head.  He imagined bringing his mouth down and licking at the sticky wetness gathered there, and letting his lips drag across the flushed head in a gentle sweep.

 

At these thoughts, the magic swelled up in Merlin and the power burned hot gold in his eyes, exploding inside his head in a bright, starry display.  He felt the forces move from him to Arthur, and he allowed it all to bleed from his body into the Prince’s.

 

Arthur took in a sharp breath and held it, his head dropping down, eyes squeezed shut, and his arms tightened into a straightened position against the table.  Merlin watched as Arthur’s body trembled, his face twisted into a pleasurably agonised expression, and the warlock suddenly realised what he was witnessing.

 

Arthur was coming.

 

Upon the revelation, he willed another final constrictive squeeze by magic at Arthur’s groin to draw out his orgasm.  Arthur shuddered, nails digging into the wood on the table, brow furrowing and skin damp with sweat.

 

Then the warlock let his hand drop, quickly banishing all magics from within himself and turned back to the mantle, pretending he was still dusting.

 

He could hear Arthur breathing hard in the quiet of the room.  His own breaths were slightly laboured, and he had to let his trousers stop their constriction before he could face the Prince again.  Turning his head, Merlin didn’t ever remember seeing Arthur in such a vulnerable and, dare he admit it, _beautiful_ state as this before.  The Prince sat boneless and shaking in his seat, with flushed cheeks, damp mouth and heavy lids.  His expression was one of both contentment and confusion, though he was clearly glad about whatever it was that had just happened to him.

 

Merlin moved toward a table at the side of the room, lifting a water jug and pouring Arthur a cupful.  He made his way back to the table where the Prince remained silent and subdued, and set the cup down next to Arthur’s hand.  He watched his master for a few moments more before speaking.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, trying to fight a smile.  “Your cheeks are all red.”

 

He reached a hand out to Arthur’s forehead.

 

“And you’re hot and damp.”

 

Merlin expected the Prince to slap his hand away and fire back with some derogatory comment.  Arthur did neither.  Looking up at the warlock from under low lashes, he gently removed Merlin’s hand from his head.

 

“I’m fine, Merlin,” he replied, his voice warm and rough.  “Honestly, you fuss over me too much.”

 

There was no venom to his tone anymore, and Merlin was sure there was even the hint of a smile on his lips.  He grinned at Arthur’s dramatic shift in mood, and couldn’t help but feel a little smug about it being his doing.  He pressed the water cup into the Prince’s hand.

 

“Well, it is part of my job, isn’t it?” he said.  “Make sure you’re happy, healthy and satisfied.”

 

At the last word, Arthur’s eyes flicked up to Merlin’s, and for a moment the warlock feared he’d given himself away.  But then he remembered Arthur had absolutely no inkling that Merlin practised magic, let alone contemplate the idea that his manservant would use it to induce orgasm in him.

 

The Prince watched him for a few moments and then coughed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and wrinkling his nose.

 

“Well, I’m fine now,” he said quietly.  “You can take your leave.”

 

Merlin double-checked there was still some water in Arthur’s wash-bowl as well as clean linen for the Prince to sort himself out with, then prepared to leave.

 

“Yes, my lord,” he replied, still trying to hide exactly how pleased he was with himself.  “Sleep well.”

 

He turned toward the door and was just about to open it when Arthur spoke again.

 

“Merlin.”

 

The warlock stopped and turned his head, fingers lingering on the doorhandle.

 

“Sire?”

 

Arthur glanced down at his papers and back up a few times.

 

“I was hard on you today, wasn’t I?”

 

Merlin chewed his lip and pondered his options.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to annoy Arthur again after he’d made such progress in brightening his mood.

 

“If I say yes, are you going to make me wash your clothes before I go back to my chambers?”

 

Arthur sighed, frowning a little.

 

“No, of course not.”

 

“Well, then, yes – you were.”

 

Arthur looked down at the table, his palms flattened against the wood, fingers splayed.  He looked back up at Merlin.

 

“I shouldn’t have.”

 

Merlin raised an eyebrow, smirking.

 

“Is that an apology?”

 

Arthur gave him a withering stare.

 

“No.”

 

Merlin snorted and rolled his eyes, but when he looked over Arthur was attempting to fight a smile himself.

 

“Okay,” Merlin grinned, turning the doorhandle.  “Goodnight, my lord.”

 

Arthur’s eyes glittered, still heavy-lidded.

 

“Goodnight, Merlin.”

 

~*~

 


End file.
